Have to be you
by Chinese Bakery
Summary: Ch. 2: She's gonna find out eventually, you know. One day she'll grow tired of holding your cold dead hand and she'll want to go and find livelier friends. T/V
1. Chapter 1

"Unruly boys  
>Who will not grow<br>Must be taken in hand"  
>The Smiths<p>

It's never fully quiet in here. Never peaceful. There's always shouting and fighting or things being knocked down. But the day Marcy gives the Harmons the grand tour, the household is restless. There's so much excitement and anticipation that the windows could just as well be vibrating. They really like it when new people show up. Especially a nice little family like that.

We haven't seen any of those in a while. Normal people tend to cross the street to avoid passing by. More often than not, the prospective buyers are just aimless creeps who want to brag about having seen the Murder House from the inside.

Not the Harmons. They just drove from across the country to see the house up close, and Marcy's as little forthcoming as ever with facts and trivia. If you can't tell how phony that woman is, you deserve whatever you've got coming, I suppose.

They send the daughter to check on the dog when it starts barking at the basement's door. I like the way she shakes the handle like she wants to knock the thing down. When she comes down to take a look around, through the shadows and the dirt and the monsters there, she doesn't seem spooked at all.

Nora's grip on my hand tightens.

"Them," she says. "Yes. Them."

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

The hallways are full of boxes and although Nora's not pleased about the mess, even she isn't impervious to all that hopefulness floating around. New possibilities. Everyone can feel them, even the Harmons themselves.

Adelaide's in the attic, giggling to herself and bouncy with delight.

"They're going to die in here," she exclaims, beaming. She doesn't mean anything harsh by it. She's only looking forward to getting to know new people. It's been a long time since she's last made a friend.

"Have you told them that?"

"Yes. I'm not allowed to come here anymore," she says, her mood faltering.

"You'll just have to be really sneaky, then."

Addie beams, her setback forgotten. It makes me miss the old days, when we were so close. She used to tell me secrets, hers and theirs. I never quite understood why she got so upset when I got into fights. I always wanted to beat the shit out of the jerks who made fun of her, even when they were bigger and older, it didn't matter. They all had it coming. When I got hurt, she was the one who cried.

"Do you want to play?"

"Thanks, but maybe another time."

I watch Addie and Beau roll a ball back and forth for a while before I slip out to spy on the Harmons.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Some evenings, Violet Harmon sneaks outside to smoke a cigarette or two, wrapped in a too-big sweater that makes her look as small as a fifth grader. It gives me an urge to rub up and down her arms to keep her warm.

She hides a kit under her bed, razor blades and band-aids. It's the first thing she properly put away when she set in. I was tempted to steal it, but Moira caught me and forbade me to go through Violet's stuff again. Said it wasn't proper. Moira would know about improper things.

The parents are either oblivious or they just don't care. They should protect her better. My mother was like that. She sure never did a thing to put me out of trouble.

Is she going to die here? When Addie predicts someone's death, I never know if it comes from actual knowledge or by force of habit. She's friendly with most of them, and they sure like to talk. Perhaps they can tell at first glance which one's going to snap and butcher the others. Maybe there's a goddamn betting pool going on somewhere.

But Nora's very confident about the outcome of things; her distress has morphed into eagerness and impatience. She'd never forgive me if I failed her again. She's been urging me to get it done, every moment of every day. I come awake and fall asleep to the sound of her voice. "Be a man. Do it. It has to be you. Prove yourself to me." It will all work out this time, she promised. New life. Love and completion. Finding peace at last. How could I deny her any of that?

There's a mean, there's an end. I put on the mask. And I prove myself to her.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

I know Mother isn't pleased I'm spending time with Violet after my sessions, but it's not like she can do anything to stop me. She's the one who insisted for me to see Dr. Harmon in the first place. And the truth is, I like therapy.

I'm not fixed yet. The visions aren't gone. Some memories don't feel right. Things get stuck on the periphery of my mind and when I try to remember them properly, my brain slams shut and it's gone, like walking straight into a glass wall. But it's good to talk and have someone listen, even if I don't tell him an awful lot of truth.

"My mom's pregnant," Violet announces one night. We're sitting on the floor in her room, listening to bands I've never heard of. I don't really want to have this conversation, but things are the way they are and there's no point in wishing them different.

"Can you believe it? I don't even think they did it on purpose. At her age, it's basically a miracle. I think she's really happy, though. Well, she's worried, because of what happened the last time. But she's mostly happy."

"Are you?" I ask as my finger traces a fading scar high on her wrist. "Happy she's pregnant, I mean."

"I don't know. I just hope it doesn't die," she says, with such sadness I instantly reach for her, pull her close. "I never, ever want to see a baby coffin again."

"Don't worry. I'm sure everything will be okay."

Her face is buried in the crook of my neck and I keep very still not to scare her away. When she finally kisses me, it doesn't feel weird at all. There's nothing but warmth and pleasure. It goes on for a long time, just kisses and nothing else, there on the floor of a bedroom that used to be mine. I can't remember anything quite like it.

After I leave her room that night, I find Nora waiting for me in the basement.

"You need to put an end to this," she says, and her voice is filled with contained fury and something like disgust.

"I don't want to," I say, when I really mean I won't and you can't make me.

"It's pointless. And disgraceful. Don't you have any respect for anything? For me?"

"I did what you wanted. It was a harrowing thing to do but I did it for you. Isn't that enough?"

The looks she gives me then, full of contempt - it does something to me. Like a switch. For a moment there, I don't see Nora's face. I see my mother, staring back at me with distaste. I have this impulse, this crazy, scary impulse, and it's all I can do not to hit her. Hit her until there's nothing solid left. After she's gone, I look at my hands for a long time, it's like they belong to someone else.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

When everything goes to hell after Halloween night, I'm not exactly sure why. Violet was the one who insisted we go out on a date. I guess that made her my girlfriend, officially. It was an important milestone in our relationship.

Now everything's gone to hell and she won't even tell me what's wrong. She avoids looking me in the eye and keeps talking about meaningless things while I watch the gap between us grow larger. The pauses are loud and awkward.

Dr. Harmon probably wasn't too far off when he said I was afraid of rejection. I can't stand it when she looks at me with all the warmth gone, like I'm a stranger. Like I mean nothing to her and she wishes we'd never met.

I can feel the anger growing but and I can't be angry with her. She's what's perfect in my life, she's where there's no rage or emptiness. It's unfair to make me yearn for all that affection and tenderness and love only to snatch it away suddenly. And for what? For a bunch of bullies badmouthing me for no reason?

Before she figures out a way to ask, before I can let the fury wash over, I give her what she wants. I leave her alone.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Time blurs in the basement. It melts and bends out of shape until it stops meaning anything. I wait it out. Whatever I've said, whatever I've done to make her doubt be, maybe it can be undone. I'm not feeling very optimistic, though.

When I look up, Nora's standing before me with her arms crossed across her chest and her lips pursed in distaste. She was never the most patient person, but she's never looked at me with such surliness before.

"I think Violet doesn't want me anymore," I say by mean of explanation. I try to shrug it off like it doesn't mean much, but saying the words out loud feels like being splashed with something wet and freezing.

"Well, can you blame her?" she asks expectantly.

I know she feels betrayed. She shouldn't, I understand her better than I ever could before. It doesn't matter who's to blame. All that matters is that void. That unfillable void. Maybe that's what Nora felt when she lost her baby forever. But a baby's just a baby; it's like any other baby. I can give her another one. Violet can't be replaced. She can't appear fully formed.

Nora sighs one of those long suffering sighs and her shoulders sag like she's giving up on me.

"Do you have any idea how long you've been sitting here? Were you always so weak?"

Her voice is cold with disdain. I keep quiet because we both know the answer to her question. It all feels so familiar. My mother never missed an opportunity to let me know how widely I failed at meeting her expectations as well. It's okay, I can take it. The one thing I was always good at was being a disappointment to all.

"I don't know what to do," I admit.

"Well, it's time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself. Your little friend's going to ruin everything. Do something."

I don't understand at first. When I open her bedroom door, Violet's laying on her bed, very still and not sleeping. I cling to her through the dread and the panic and the horror. I drag her around and shake her and try to rid her of the poison.

We lay together in the tub for a very long time and under the warm water spray, I can't feel the coldness of her hands. There are no words, and we cry and cry until we're all cried out.

There's a knock on the door before someone starts tugging on my arms, pulling us apart. The motion is gentle but effective. Moira always knows when she's needed and she's nothing if not efficient. She shakes her head and although she doesn't say anything, I can tell she's thinking she's tired of cleaning my messes.

But her hand on my shoulder is meant to comfort. It lingers for a while and I think it's the kindest she's ever been to me.

"It's okay," she says. "Nothing's going to change."

I don't believe her at all, but I'm grateful anyway.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

The days go by and we spend a lot of time in her room doing nothing other than being together.

Violet used to talk about places she wanted to visit, countries she wanted to travel. How she was going to move away, see the world, grow old somewhere more interesting. Now it's just slipped her mind. I don't know that she feels as content as I do.

"After the babies are born, my mom's gonna need all the help she can get," she says. "It's a weird place for babies. She hasn't started childproofing the house. She hasn't bought baby clothes or bottles or anything. She's too wrapped up in her family drama."

"There's still time for all of that."

"Well, you know. Twins can come early. And she'll probably have to stay in bed and rest at some point. What will she do then?"

The truth is, I don't know what happens after the babies are born. It's for Nora to decide. Someone had to help free her of her pain. I only did what had to be done to restore her peace. To relieve her of that need. I could feel it bouncing from wall to wall when we were in the same room. It was everywhere, impossible to ignore.

"Do you think it's even safe for them here? I mean, with everything that's happened and the, you know. Them."

I force myself to smile in response to her frown of concern. Some things are better left the hell alone. You don't go poking a monster with a stick unless you're prepared to be torn apart and eaten alive. The two of us, we have more than our fair share of monsters laying between us.

"Yes," I reply, forcing as much certainty in the word as I can. My fingers brush her forehead softly, over and over, smoothing the worry lines away. "Of course they're safe. Everything's going to be okay. I'm here."

She leans into my hand as the corner of her mouth lifts up. I wait until the smile reaches her eyes to lie back down on the bed, tucking her head against my chest.

The two of us together, it's all I've ever wanted for myself. It's as perfect as it gets for people like me. For what it's worth, I vow never to have to lie to her again.


	2. Chapter 2

"When you call out my name in rapture  
>I volunteer my soul for murder<br>I wish this moment here forever"  
>PJ Harvey<p>

Sometimes when I'm looking at Violet, all youthful and fresh and perfect, I can't help thinking about the grey body rotting in the crawl space. I've gone back to watch over it a few times, after Violet's gone to bed. At first I tried to chase the flies away, but it's become such a vain effort. I don't know where they're coming from, all those flies. It's a way of mourning her, I guess, all her could-have-been. If I could bury her properly with an engraved stone and flowers and shit, I would.

One night, I find Hayden waiting for me by the crawl space's entrance. She's got a phony, compassionate smile plastered to her face and her voice is dripping with sympathy**.**

"She's gonna find out eventually, you know," she purrs. "One day she'll grow tired of holding your cold, dead hand and she'll want to go and find livelier little friends. Don't you think it's cruel to keep the truth from her? Perhaps someone should clue her in."

"You stay away from her."

"Or you'll... what, kill me? You know, I've found there are worse fates than dying in this place. I'm sure Violet will concur."

"What do you _want_, Hayden?"

She stares at me for some time, with that weird, eager grin. She's sizing me up, evaluating how much she can ask for, and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. Ever since she appeared, she's been stirring shit up.

"Nothing for now. But I'll keep you informed," she says brightly and retreats into the darkness.

* * *

><p>For days and days, we manage. I don't have to push too hard to convince Violet not to go to school. We spend most days together hiding in the attic, playing games, watching videos and making out. It's a simple and perfect life, but also a fragile little equilibrium we've got going. I don't know how long it can hold<strong>.<strong>

"How does it feel?" Violet asks me one afternoon as she adds the letters _g, o, r, i, e _and _s_ before my _t_ and scores 8 points.

"How does what feel?"

"Dying," she says evenly, her eyes trained on the board.

"I don't know. I don't remember it."

I never really questioned or thought over my state of existence before Violet came along.I just _was_. In this house that I couldn't leave, surrounded by other people like me. With blanks all over my memories that made understanding my situation impossible. The noise was the voices, the screams and the crying. Hell is other people, right?

But everything's different now. I have something worth living for. I suppose her acceptance of my circumstances is a good sign, but she's not ready to know and I'm not ready to tell her.

I may not remember much about the last days of my life, but I know I wasn't looking to a bright future. I didn't have a happy and full life waiting to be wiped away by a temporary lapse of judgment like she did.

"Your turn," I say, nodding towards the board. _Pretense_ earns me 10 points.

* * *

><p>Two weeks after the incident, Vivien snaps and decides to up and leave with Violet in toe. There's nothing I can do but stare in horror as her mom wrenches her bedroom door open, pulls her out of bed and marches her to the car.<p>

It's a question of minutes. Seconds, even. Once they pass the gates, it will all have been for nothing. From a distance, Violet gives me a long look that says both _I'm sorry_ and _I wish there was another way but_. Then she climbs into the car and I can't see her face anymore.

I have so many impulses at once that I can't process them all, it feels like there are twenty people inside my head yelling stuff completely out of synch.I want to rip Vivien apart piece by piece. I want to grab Violet and lock her in the basement where I'll never let her out of my sight again. I want to throw myself under the fucking tires to stop the car from moving.

"Go back inside," I hear Hayden say from behind me. "I've got this."

I don't need to turn around to know Hayden's standing half a step behind my back. She sounds like she's rather enjoying herself, which immediately rings an alarm in my head. But with all that adrenaline coursing through me and no time to think things through, I hesitate for only a handful of second before doing as I am told. My eyes don't leave the car until I reach the house.

* * *

><p>In Violet's room, the bed is unmade. Her things are scattered all around because Vivien only gave her a few minutes to pack. Everything looks wrong and out of place. I don't know whether to stand there or sit down or hide in a corner. All I can think is <em>what am I gonna do?<em> What could I possibly do now? I try to brace myself for what happens next, for what will inevitably occur when the house pulls her back in.

But when Violet jerks the door open, she rushes to me and falls into my arms without a word. I hold her close, too close; her hands push against my chest to give her some breathing room.

"You didn't leave," I say between kisses. "I thought I'd lost you."

"There were... people in the car. My mom freaked out."

"You didn't drive through the gates, did you?"

"It's okay. I'm not going anywhere."

"I won't let you."

We spend the whole night together for the first time, curled against each other, touching and kissing and talking. In the first hours of the morning, it finally happens, without either of us making a conscious decision of it.

Violet pulls away from me to yank her tank top over her head. Her face turns serious and intent for half a second before she reaches back to unhook her bra. Without saying a word, she dares me to turn her down again.

I know I should. There are too many things unsaid, half-truths and full-on lies to allow her to make what one would call an uninformed choice. But Violet's sitting up half naked in front of me and I want it so bad it hurts. The sound she makes when I taste her skin acts like a switch and there's no going back. When she tugs on the hem of my shirt I just raise my arms to help.

We never really came close to doing this before. After Halloween, there was something like an unspoken agreement between us. But this time I'm not even nervous. I try to take things slow because I know it's her first time and it's new for me too, doing this with my head as engaged as the rest of me. There's no ulterior motive and no darkness to it.

Her mouth is resting just below my ear and her breathless voice is making it difficult to hold on. I reach between us to help her and she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. I kiss her again and again until it's over.

* * *

><p>When I get back to the basement, Hayden's waiting for me, her crazy eyes shining.<p>

"You owe me now, lover boy," she says, with triumph in her voice. "Let's talk."

* * *

><p>After Vivien's internment, Nora's livid that I helped send her precious surrogate away. She's so worried about the babies being shipped somewhere she's losing all rational thinking. She nags me for nights on end, when I should be comforting Violet and trying to assuage her guilt. Watching her mother being taken away has hit her hard.<p>

"Even if they decide to keep her," I point out for the hundredth time, "who do you think is gonna get custody of a pair of newborns? A legally insane woman, or her psychiatrist husband? As long as Dr Harmon stays put, we're good."

I can't help thinking about what Mother said during her last visit. It was the tone of her voice. Ihave a bad feeling about this that I can't shake away. _Do you realize what you've done? _

"I think there might be something wrong with the babies," I tell Nora one night.

"What clued you in, genius?" Hayden appears from a corner of the room, snickering. "You're not exactly ideal father material."

"The babies are fine," Nora replies icily.

"What do you know about this?" I ask Hayden.

"Oh, nothing much," she shrugs. "The mother was just recently admitted to an insane asylum. The alleged father's a deceased sociopath. I'm sure they'll turn out _just fine_."

"There's nothing wrong with my babies. How dare you imply otherwise?" Nora cuts in before turning to me, her eyes furious. "Ever since you started seeing _that girl_, you've become a useless little ruffian. I never should have allowed it to go on for so long. Now, you're going to do as I-"

"Go away," I demand before I can think twice, and she disappears instantly.

"Neat trick," Hayden says with a mock clap. "I'll have to remember it."

"Well, you have to mean it. My understanding is that you've been yearning for company."

"Now, now, play nice," she says with an icy smile. "Have you ever wondered what makes us dead folks _want _so much?"

"Want what?"

"Babies_,_" she says in a sigh. "Sex. Fame. Married ex-lovers. Fair little princesses. It depends. Hey, what do you think Violet wants?"

"I'm not playing your games, Hayden."

"Too bad," she smirks. "I'm always up for a good round."

* * *

><p>After that first close call with Vivien, I'm as determined as ever to protect Violet from the outside world. But as it turns out, I can't stop it from barging in from every direction. As far as I'm concerned, the fact that she doesn't seem to suspect anything is proof enough that she doesn't want to know.<p>

It's not like I can kill everyone who intrudes. Not her father, by any means. Violet would never forgive me. Besides, the babies would be sent away and I'd be in a world of trouble.

I try to make it her choice. I try to make things easier for her. I break into Dr Harmon's office cupboard to steal some meds, but Violet's wary of me and refuses to take any. When she starts running away from me, I know it's over. She runs and runs until she's come full circle. Then she does it again, and again. She doesn't understand at first, because she really, deeply doesn't want to. It's beyond human comprehension. I've seen it happen countless times.

Before she can drive herself crazy, I take her to the crawlspace and let her see for herself. There are so many flies. I'll have to come back later to wrap her in a blanket; that won't keep them away completely but it can't hurt.

She cries in my arms for a long time, as long as she can stand the smell, I suppose. We cling to each other and I tell her I'm sorry, over and over. Then she gives her body a long last look and we climb back to the attic. We have to hurry, she doesn't want her father to find out she's skipped school again.

* * *

><p>We stand facing each other in awkward silence, in that same spot where we've spent most of our time together for the past three weeks. I try to guess what she's expecting from me but I can't read her expression.<p>

"Do you love me?" she finally asks, her eyes troubled.

"Yes, I love you. You know I do."

She doesn't reply, she only nods. She's never said the words back to me, but it's okay. I can be patient. I've waited my whole life already.

Then she grabs me by the neck and kisses me, hard open-mouthed kisses that leave not room for subtlety or tenderness. One of her hand reaches down to undo my belt, the other keeps pulling me close.

I've hear that some people feel an overwhelming urge to fuck right after attending funerals. So, what if she wants to prove to herself that there's life in her still? There is. There always will be. She'll never grow old now, never decay.

"I love you," I tell her until she's tired of hearing it.

The whole time, she keeps her hands flat on my chest, keeping me from rising to meet her mouth with mine, and I try to ignore the tears streaming down her face.

"How long did you think you could keep it from me?" she asks afterwards. Her voice is a little flat, but she doesn't sound angry.

"I don't know. It's not like I planned anything. Afterwards, you didn't remember; I thought you needed a little time. And then you didn't want to talk to me at all. After that, it was just too late. I didn't know how to tell you without hurting you. I'm sorry."

"You should have told me anyway."

"I'm sorry," I say again, pulling her tighter against me.

"My parents can't find out. It would _kill _them."

"Okay. You don't have to tell them. It's not like they're gonna guess."

"That's not good enough. We need to move the... body. _My _body. Shit, this is so weird. I'm a corpse."

"No, you're not," I wince, readjusting our position so I can see her face. "Violet-"

"Don't. Let's be pragmatic here. That _thing_, it's covered with bugs and the smell is infectious. It's a real bug magnet. If it stays here, they're bound to discover it sooner or later."

"Okay, but it's not like we can go and drop it in the first vacant lot."

"I know. We need to bury it outside, there's no way around it. I mean, if we do it at night, if we're really careful about the grass and shit, no one will notice. Mom's gone, Dad's too preoccupied to notice... No one cares about that stupid garden."

"You're awfully calm about this."

"I guess I am," she says with a shrug.

She keeps quiet for a while, as we lay there on the attic floor. She traces random letters on the inside of wrist, but I can't make up the words. There's a deep frown that won't leave her face.

"What was different about you, after you died? Do you know?"

"I didn't feel different. But, you know, time passes differently. Nothing really has consequences. It changes things. The way you deal with problems and stuff."

"Like the way you dealt with those creeps who tried to kill me?" she asks, rising on her elbow. She's not upset, just curious.

"I'd do it again. When I told you I'd always protect you, I meant it, you know."

She nods before resting her head on my shoulder. I let her mulls things over for a moment.

It's a big adjustment to make. Some people go insane, or vicious, or just plain nefarious. Others walk around aimlessly, stuck in an endless loop of incomprehension. You have to make up new rules as you go.

"Do you think I've changed?"

"No," I reply firmly. "You're exactly the same."

"Would you even tell me if I had?"

"You're a ghost. It's not like you're suddenly going to starve for human flesh or grow hair all over every full moon or giant canines or any shit like that. There's no secret passageway to another dimension. Things are not any different now than they were this morning. In case you don't remember, we've spent the past three weeks playing scrabble and chess, not reenacting _Return of the Living Dead_."

Her grin grows and grows and then she starts laughing. The sound is contagious.

It's only after we've stopped that I realize it's the first time I've heard her laugh in weeks, or express any intense emotion other than sorrow, really. So, maybe she's changed, just a little. I don't care. I'll have her any way I can get her.

* * *

><p>tbc.<p> 


End file.
